


The Cheesecake Interludes

by cleo4u2



Series: Remembering Steve Rogers [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Howling Commandos - Freeform, M/M, Make up sex, Stucky - Freeform, World War II, excessive fingering, yeah everyone knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of ficlets inspired by my story Cheesecake and these silly boys from Brooklyn</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interlude: WWII

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the incomparable [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile)

The fight begins when Bucky has an idea. As ideas go, it isn’t one of the best and after the arguing, Bucky can understand why Steve is upset. Maybe not as upset as he is, but at least he understands the reason for the initial fight. Three days of the cold shoulder is really pushing it, though. Oh, it isn’t complete silence, that isn’t possible when they’d had to leave for a mission the day after Bucky had proposed the Idea. They speak, but only when required to. The rest of the Howlies know something is up, though they never say as much to Steve. To _Bucky_ there is a never-ending stream of jests, when Steve is out of earshot, about what he’d done to upset the wife. It probably would be funnier, but Bucky really did feel like a husband in the dog house; Steve wasn’t even sleeping near him any more.

And so what? The idea isn’t really unheard of. How many times had Steve suggested that Bucky settle down with a pretty dame? That was back before all the dames had ignored Bucky for Steve, but that had to be expected now with how gorgeous his baby is after that serum the SSR had given him. Steve can be happy with one, settle down after the war, and raise some rugrats; he’d be such a good dad. Plus, Bucky is sure Peggy has a thing for Steve, and she is _perfect_ for him. There had been nothing wrong with suggesting that, maybe, Steve will be happier in a relationship the world could celebrate instead of revile.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said he wouldn’t mind too much. It’s a lie, but at the time Steve had been paying enough attention Bucky thought he was actually considering it. He had to protect his heart some way, if only so Steve can be happy, and Bucky’s so sure he’d be happy with Peggy. Nothing else would have compelled him to speak up otherwise.

Out of the blue, Steve had punched him hard enough he saw stars. Then he’d hissed at Bucky that if he’d wanted to get rid of him, he’d have to do better than pawning him off on a woman. Steve had wanted to shout, but you can’t shout in a tent without everyone hearing you. So they’d had their argument in angry whispers, Bucky had gotten in a few shots of his own, and Steve had thrown him out. Literally picked him up and set him outside.

Monty had started the wife cracks that night when Bucky slept in the Howlies’ tent instead of Steve’s as is his usual. The long-suffering glare he’d turned on the Englishman had only brought more derision from the others. Over the next two days, the jabs had gotten a lot more pointed, especially in regards to him being in the wrong. They’d known they were right, too, since Bucky had never mounted any kind of defense. He couldn’t. He’d fucked up and now Steve is actively ignoring him.

Two nights after the fight, the jokes stop. They’d slipped behind enemy lines, and are holed up at a little abandoned farm house while they wait for one of Agent Carter’s contacts to rendezvous with them to provide the coordinates for the next Hydra base they are taking down. Everyone is tense, but Bucky knows the tension between him and Steve is making it worse. 

Unable to sleep anyway, Bucky has taken the first night watch. There is a good chance he’ll take the second, too, but he doesn’t say that to anyone. They’d only worry more. An hour into it, Dum Dum has joined him on the porch, ostensibly for a smoke. Bucky isn’t really buying it, and after five minutes the guy gets to what he really wants to talk about.

“So, you never said what you did.”

“To Steve?” Bucky clarifies rhetorically. He leans a little harder on the flimsy railing that encloses the porch of the house they’re squatting in. “Does it matter?”

“You two’ve never fought for this long. Starting to make everyone anxious and we really don’t need more panicky trigger fingers out here, Sarge.”

Bucky closes his eyes, but it’s only for a moment because he _is_ on watch.

“I was an ungrateful asshole,” Bucky says. “That’s all anyone needs to know.”

“Uh huh,” Dum Dum says, “That explains why Cap keeps looking like a kid lost at a county fair crossed with an angry doberman.”

At another time, the description would be funny. Now it just makes Bucky feel worse because it’s accurate.

“Look, I’ve tried to talk to him, to apologize. He’s not having it.” Dum Dum passes him a cigarette and he takes it, even if, since Azzano, he doesn’t get that buzz he once did. “I’d grovel if he’d let me.”

“We all know that,” Dum Dum says, offering him a light, “We give you shit, Sarge, but we’re not taking sides. It ain’t no picnic for anyone when mom and dad fight.”

Bucky gives Dum Dum a sharp look, but if the comment means more than what’s on the surface, the mustachioed man’s expression doesn’t give anything away. Blowing out a breath, Bucky considers if he should ask what Dum Dum means, but decides against it. Maybe Dum Dum knows the truth about Bucky and Steve, maybe he doesn’t. And it really doesn’t matter if he’s not going to say anything.

“I’d better not be mom,” Bucky says instead.

“Oh, you’re definitely mom,” Dum Dum grins likes the bastard he is, “but that’s got nothing to do with why I’m out here. James,” he says, dropping the smile, “you gotta patch this thing. Not just for us. You’re not sleeping, or eating, and Cap isn’t either. One of you’s gonna do something stupid if this keeps up, and there won’t be any coming back from that.”

Again, Bucky gives himself a moment to close his eyes.

“I know, Tim,” he says quietly, “I’ll figure something out. I always do, don’t I?”

“Usually got a plan, though.”

Bucky sighs.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” Dum Dum plucks the cigarette from Bucky’s fingers and motions to the house. “Us kiddos made sure Cap got the bedroom to himself. He’s alone, there’s nowhere to run, and the walls are thick enough you can probably hold a conversation above a whisper.”

Bucky hesitates, so Dum Dum adds, “Go on, I’ll cover your watch, but you owe me one.”

“If this works, I owe you ten,” Bucky retorts.

Suddenly filled with the energy he’d been lacking since the fight, Bucky pulls open the farmhouse door. The rest of the Howlies were packed together on the floor of the living room, dining room, and kitchen in their sleeping bags. It looked a bit uncomfortable, and Bucky knew there would have been more room if they’d have spread out into the house’s bedroom as well. When Bucky appears, the guys awake lift their heads and settle down again with muttered encouragements and wishes of good luck. He owes them all, whether or not this works, and vows to steal something good to make it up to them.

When he enters the home’s once-cozy bedroom, Steve looks up curiously. The look immediately shuts down when he realizes who’s just stepped inside, closing off, and closing Bucky out. It hurts just as bad this time to watch as it has every other time he’s seen it the last few days. Bucky pushes the feeling down, knowing if he indulges in that pain he’ll only pick a fight. Instead, he closes the door firmly behind him, despite the obvious fact that Steve doesn’t want him there.

“Now isn’t the best time, James-”

“I hate it when you do that,” Bucky interrupts, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking to the room’s lone window. It’s real glass and Bucky suspects the home's former occupants were very proud of their home. There’s still some nice linens in the cupboards, dishes and plates, plus knickknacks that he guesses simply didn’t make the cut when they had fled the oncoming conflict.

“Do _what_?” Steve asks, and he’s angry already, but he’s _talking,_ and that’s a step in the right direction.

“Call me James when you’re upset with me,” Bucky says, running the fabric of the well-made yellow curtains between his fingers.

“What do you want, Bucky?” Steve asks, and he sounds so tired, but Bucky isn’t James any more, so that’s another step.

“Besides to apologize?” he asks, turning to try his best smile on Steve. All he gets is a blank stare for his trouble and, really, he should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy. Sighing, he drops the curtain and faces Steve fully. “The kids are upset mom and dad are fighting. If we can’t figure this out,” Bucky swallows, “I’m going to put in for a transfer.”

Steve’s on his feet in a heartbeat, fists clenched. Holding out his hands, he hopes Steve can see he’s not trying to cause a fight. He’s not. He’s so tired of fighting with his best guy it isn’t even funny.

“This isn’t about us,” Bucky says, “I’m not saying I’m gonna leave _you_ , just the Howlies. I won’t be responsible for getting someone hurt, or worse, because I hurt your feelings and you won’t let me apologize. Not saying you should, though I’d like that, because I fucked up and you get to keep me in the dog house for as long as you like, but we got other people’s lives in our hands, Stevie. They shouldn’t have to deal with our shit,” he shrugs and shoves his hands back in his pockets, “And it’s not like you can quit.”

Looking down, Steve clenches and unclenches his fists over and over.

“You wouldn’t be leaving me? We’d still be…”

“Together, Steve,” Bucky tries to tease. “We’re together.”

“Bucky,” Steve stops, then starts again, “If you want to leave me, I’d rather you just did that than keep stringing me along.”

Shit. Bucky closes his eyes, clenches his jaw and shakes his head. 

“So _that’s_ why you’re so sore with me. Steve-”

“No, just, let me get this out. You’ve been distant since you found out about Erskine’s serum. We’ve fooled around, when you need-” 

Bucky knows Steve can’t say it, so he does, “Sex.”

Steve nods, but still blushes.

“But it’s not like it was. You know, _before_. Then you suggested this thing with Peggy, and now you wanna leave the unit, so just- If you want someone else, if I’m not good enough now I look different, just say so. Stop telling me you want me if you don’t.”

Giving it a five count to make sure Steve’s listed everything, Bucky asks roughly, “You done?”

Nodding sharply, Steve continues to stare somewhere in the direction of Bucky’s boots. The expression on his face is the same one he makes right before he takes a punch. It would be sweet, if it wasn’t so horrible.

“Okay, so my turn where you don’t get to interrupt.”

Striding to Steve, he grabs his best guy by the front of the blue shirt he wears under the Captain America uniform. Using it like a steering wheel, he turns Steve’s back to the bed and walks him backwards until he’s forced to sit. Putting a knee on the bed, Bucky straddles Steve’s lap and adjusts his hold so he has Steve’s head in his hands, tipped back to look up at him. To his relief, he sees Steve’s eyes are wide, pupil’s blown, because Bucky’s touch has always gotten to his baby.

“I’ve been distant because of what happened at Azzano; that’s got _nothin’_ to do with you, or the serum, or how you look now. You know I loved that sweet little body you had before, but _this_ body is so much better. Not in the looks department, that’s about even, but you can do so much more now, Steve, and I don’t have to worry about hurting you, or if you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not _sick_ any more. I _love_ this body. Why d’you think I wanted you to wear the suit? Your fuckin’ legs in those tights are some of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, and your _ass_ , Jesus. It's hard not to stare at it down my scope, and all I want when you walk by is to strip you down and eat that gorgeous ass.”

“Bucky,” Steve whines. They both know how much Steve likes it when Bucky talks filth.

“No, you had your turn and I’m not done. I was a real asshole a couple days ago if what I said made you think I don't want you. You are the other half of my soul, Steve Rogers, and I would shout that to the whole world if I could, but I can't; they won't let me. Won't let me give you what you deserve, but you could have that with Peggy. If you don't want it-”

“I _don't_ ,” Steve says passionately. 

“-then I'll be the luckiest guy in the world and love you as best I can. I'm sorry I made you think anything else, baby. I hate how unhappy I made you. You don't have to forgive me, but let me make it up to you, Stevie.”

Bucky lowers his head to brush his lips against Steve's, nipping at the full lower lip. Broad hands grab his hips and Steve moans. That’s all the permission he’s likely to get, so Bucky wastes no time pulling off the clothes Steve’s still wearing and grinning at the desperation he can feel in the hands yanking open his coat, pushing it off, then tugging at the rest of the clothes until Bucky’s naked. 

Guilt wars with Bucky’s arousal because it’s obvious now, now that they’re doing this, how badly Steve wants to be fucked. When they'd been reunited, Bucky had been selfish enough to want Steve to fuck him exclusively. They'd never been able to, the way they could now, since they no longer have to worry about Steve literally coughing up bits of his lungs. Bucky loves it, and it doesn’t hurt that it’s the only thing that gets rid of his insomnia. He hadn't realized how that had seemed to Steve, but he’s going to fix that now because he hadn't lied about how attractive post-serum Steve Rogers is. Bucky is simply more damaged from Azzano than he wants to admit, and being made love to, enveloped by Steve, is one of the few times he feels safe.

Once they’re both naked, Bucky pushes Steve back onto the bed. Thankfully, the mattress doesn’t squeak, or they'd have to use the floor. They haven't had sex in a real bed since New York, and Bucky is dying to take advantage of the opportunity. 

“Lie in the middle,” Bucky instructs, pausing to grab the little jar of lube from his jacket.

Climbing onto the bed, Bucky wastes no time making Steve roll over. He pushes Steve's long legs apart, settling between them and draping himself all over Steve’s back. Already, Steve’s clutching the quilted bed cover, trembling and arching as Bucky runs his hands down his back to his ass. He squeezes, making Steve bury a moan in the mattress, and shifts to lean on one hand so his fingers can circle Steve's hole. All the long lines of muscle tense and flex, offering a beautiful sight as Bucky dips his fingers in the lube and brings them back to Steve’s entrance. 

Carefully, he pushes first one finger into Steve, then two. The man reacts like he’s being plowed, shoving his ass back at Bucky and groaning into the mattress. It’s so hot, Bucky debates making Steve wait just as long before next time he fucks the greedy hole clutching his fingers.

“Look at you,” Bucky purrs into Steve's ear, “So fuckin’ needy. Been too long since you were filled up, hasn't it, baby? Gonna fuck you so hard, but not yet, no. You know what I'm gonna do first? I'm gonna make you come on my fingers. Then I'm gonna keep fingering you because we don't have to be careful anymore. I can do this to you as long as I want, until you can't come again, and only fuck you when you're spent.”

To Bucky's surprise, Steve comes then, just from his thrusting fingers and quiet words. It makes Bucky’s cock throb with a delicious ache. Though he doesn’t want to wait, he knows that the shaking, trembling mess beneath him is a result of Steve wanting what Bucky promised. So he doesn’t stop fingering Steve, even through the orgasm and well after. No, he adds a third finger, making Steve come off the bed, whimpering and moaning with the overstimulation. 

“Shh,” Bucky hushes, “Keep it down, baby. I love how loud you are, but that's gotta wait ‘til we get somewhere we can make some noise.”

Steve whines, hips jerking, but otherwise just taking whatever Bucky wants to give him. Adding a little more lube, Bucky pushes Steve through the sensitivity to pleasure again. The mattress drowns Steve's moans as he starts thrusting back onto Bucky's fingers, grinding his hips, trying to find the even more stimulation from Bucky’s actions. His hands clutch a pillow to his face, stifling most of the sounds Steve can’t suppress. 

Bucky’s never seen Steve like this, so eager and needy. Desperate. It’s intoxicating. He no longer cares that his own cock has gone untouched, aching and weeping, because he doesn’t want to _stop_. Almost greedily, Steve’s ass takes his fingers over and over and over and still begs for more. They needed to keep this quick, they need their sleep for whatever is coming tomorrow, but Bucky slows down as Steve gets near, drawing it out, making his baby writhe as every single muscle stands out from the need filling Steve’s body.

Though he draws it out, Bucky isn’t cruel enough to stop, and the second orgasm is even more intense than the first. Steve practically smothers himself in the mattress to stay quiet, but Bucky still worries the Howlies might hear his cries. Then Steve’s limp, sweat beading on his skin and glimmering in the moonlight. Still, Bucky doesn’t stop, making Steve jerk and twitch as the pleasure becomes more like pain.

Licking a line up Steve’s neck to his ear, Bucky starts whispering again.

“So fuckin’ hot, Stevie. Never seen anything sexier than you right now. You’re spread all wide on my fingers, open and so inviting. I can feel all of you, hot and wet, and you keep _squeezing_. Shit, baby, gonna have to do this to you all the time.”

There’s no words, Steve’s too far gone for that, but he whimpers weakly and Bucky knows he wouldn’t stop him from continuing now if he could. Steve lies spent, taking and taking until _Bucky_ can’t take any more. He has to be inside that well-used hole, fuck Steve into the strange bed, and come inside the tight passage. 

When he pulls his fingers free, Steve lets out a cry that tugs viciously at Bucky’s heartstrings.

“Shh, baby,” he shushes again, slicking up his cock as quick as he can, “Gonna fuck you now.”

Sounding like he’s sobbing, Steve spreads his legs even wider, pulling his knees out to the sides, and Bucky curses because he can’t climb that gorgeous body fast enough. He presses his cock to Steve’s hole and slides in like there aren’t months, an ocean, and super-serum between now and the last time they did this. 

Beneath him, Steve curls around himself as though trying to fit every piece of them together. It’s nice, but it changes the angle of their connection and Bucky can’t move. Grabbing the back of Steve’s neck, he pushes down and, though Steve’s stronger than Bucky now, he can’t hold himself upright. 

Holding tight to Steve’s neck, Bucky grabs his hip and starts thrusting. A pillow has to be pulled to Steve’s mouth as he shouts, but Bucky doesn't have that luxury. The heat gripping his cock is so all-encompassing, so tight and wonderful, it’s all he can do not to be as vocal as Steve. In the end, he grits his teeth hard enough to worry he’ll crack something. 

It’s so perfect he can’t hold back, fucking Steve into the mattress like he’d thought when they started. His baby just takes it, takes it and rides the waves of pleasure until he finally moves, blindly reaching back for Bucky. This isn’t new, means Steve is improbably close to another orgasm, and Bucky releases the grip he has on Steve’s waist to catch the flailing hand. Pressing himself down along Steve’s back, he pulls the hand to his neck and Steve shudders violently even as he pulls Bucky down, once more trying to fit every inch of them together. Bucky goes, sliding his own hand from Steve’s neck, down his shoulder and arm to link their fingers together. He doesn’t stop undulating his hips, nipping and biting at Steve’s nape, and now they’re making love more than fucking, but it’s so good it doesn’t matter as long as it doesn’t stop.

Breathing grown to a hard rasp, Bucky feels Steve tense beneath him and lets go. They come together. The pillow is wrapped as tight around Steve’s face as it can get, and Bucky bites down on a meaty shoulder to keep his own cry of pleasure locked in his chest. 

They collapse, Bucky’s bulk pressing Steve even further into the mattress. He worries the pillow might actually suffocate Steve, so he pulls it from the man’s arms and tosses it aside. It’s a relief to hear the next deep breath pulled into Steve’s chest, but it has been since they found each other again. No more painful nights worrying if this breath or the next will be Steve’s last.

Though he doesn’t want to move, Bucky knows they need to clean up, get some rest. When he shifts, testing if his body will let him move, Steve’s hands fly around and grip his waist, tightening almost painfully. 

“No,” Steve whimpers.

“Shh, okay, baby,” Bucky quickly assures. “I’m here, ’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As though he’s not sure he believes it, Steve lets go little by little. Then his hands return to their place on the back of Bucky’s neck and beneath his hand, their fingers linked between one another. Though Bucky’s cock softens, he stays within Steve with nowhere else to go, and Bucky thinks he understands why he wasn’t allowed to move.

When he thinks Steve’s asleep, he considers moving again, and Steve murmurs, “I forgive you, Buck.”

Closing his eyes tightly, Bucky doesn’t let the relief overwhelm him, but his throat is still tight when he says, “Love you, Stevie.”

For the first time, Steve doesn’t say it back. Instead he whispers, “Need you, Buck. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Bucky promises fervently. “Nowhere without you.”

“Think,” Steve licks his dry lips, “Think I can let you go now.”

They don’t have time, but, “A little longer, Stevie.”

“Okay, Buck.”

Only when he’s sure Steve is asleep does Bucky pull out. He retrieves a few of the alcohol wipes from Steve’s kit and cleans them both down. After three days of fighting and not sleeping, Steve is so exhausted he doesn’t even wake when Bucky pulls the coverlet from beneath him and balls the filthy thing up beneath the bed, out of sight. It’s Europe, so it’s cold, and Bucky pulls Steve’s blanket over them both after tucking Steve beneath the clean sheets. 

Pulling Steve to his side, Bucky smiles as the giant of a man tries to burrow into his side like he still weighs less than a buck soaking wet. The bed is bigger than any they’ve ever shared, but still Steve has to be as close as possible. Far from minding, Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulder and rolls into him, tucking the blond head beneath his chin. He’s exhausted too, but he can feel the insomnia like a physical presence in his mind. There will be little sleeping tonight for him, but that’s all right. This stolen moment is worth it.

To keep his mind busy - there’s less chance he’ll have a flashback that way - he imagines the people who used to live here. He knows they were a couple because when they searched the place for any threats, they found a closet with clothing for an adult male and female. The one bed told the rest of the tale, and isn’t it an interesting one? They had to have been madly in love, he decides, to share a bed. Perhaps eloped despite their families’ wishes and came here. Their life was hard, but happy, because of the little bit of land and the home they’d made for each other.

Soon enough, the story of the couple changes as Bucky imagines himself and Steve living here. Imagines this is their bed, not someone else’s. No married couple Bucky has ever known slept in the same bed the same way he and Steve seem to need to every night. They weren’t allowed to of course, but Bucky would have married Steve ages ago if he could have. There’s no doubt Steve would say yes if he asked. He’s a good Catholic boy, his Steve, and it pains him they can’t be together before God. Bucky doesn’t mind so much, doesn’t hold with a God that thinks there’s anything wrong with Steve Rogers, or Bucky’s love for him. 

Laying his hand over the one Steve’s thrown over his chest, Bucky lets his fingers caress the empty ring finger. Another idea starts to form because, if they can’t get married in a church, they can still dedicate themselves to each other. Maybe it will draw some awkward questions, but they’ve had plenty of practice dodging those. Steve, Bucky decides, deserves a ring. If he’s not gonna settle down with Peggy, Bucky will just keep Steve for himself. Forever. 

Eventually, Bucky is too exhausted for even his insomnia to keep him up and he falls into a deep sleep. When he wakes up, sun is streaming through the pretty yellow curtains and Steve is wrapped around him, arms and legs like an octopus’ tentacles. Bucky’s still tired, but it’s the best morning he’s had in weeks. 

Thinking he can give Steve a couple more hours’ sleep, Bucky carefully extricates himself, gets dressed and heads for the door. He opens it to find Monty outside, hand raised and about to knock. He sees the Brit’s eyes take in the room, then lock on something. A mental image of Steve’s clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor sets Bucky’s heart racing. 

With a hand on Monty’s chest, he pushes him out of the way and quickly closes the door behind himself. 

“You need something, Major?” he growls.

Because he’s a Howling Commando, the only group of guys on the Earth that doesn’t think Bucky is scary, he meets Bucky’s gaze evenly.

“Jim spotted someone fitting Agent Carter’s description of the spy a ways down the road. At the pace he’s making, he should be here in less than thirty minutes.”

Bucky’s heart is still pounding and he’s trying to figure out if he’s going to have to grab Steve and go AWOL or not. Thankfully Gabe, sitting at the kitchen table and drinking a cup of black coffee, speaks into the silence.

“Just one guy, right? No reason to wake Cap when it’s just an info drop. We get the documents, make sure the guy wasn’t followed, then give everything to Cap so he can figure out our next move.”

Because he wants Steve to sleep, and he doesn’t want to open the door with Monty still standing there, Bucky agrees.

“No reason we can’t handle it ourselves.”

“Cap will not like this” Frenchie comments from the kitchen. Bucky does _not_ want to know what he’s cooking on the stove.

“Then I’ll twist his ear,” Bucky snaps, though he doesn’t mean to. Frenchie doesn’t deserve it.

Monty drops his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It’s pathetic, but Bucky can’t help remember his father catching him with Steve and flinches at the contact. Something softens in Monty’s eyes and he squeezes; friendly, not threatening. 

“I am pleased you two are getting along once more,” he says softly.

“‘Bout damn time,” Gabe says, and scrapes the chair against the floor as he stands. “I’ll let the other guys know you two kissed and made up.”

Bucky doesn’t _think_ Gabe meant anything more by the words, but he blushes anyway and glares at Gabe’s back. Chuckling, Monty turns, tucking Bucky’s shoulders under his arm the same way he used to with Steve. It’s not comforting as it should be because, while he’s not sure of Dum Dum or Gabe, he’s sure now that Monty knows. 

“Come on, then,” Monty declares, “Let’s get some food into you, Sergeant, and we can get this thing started.”

“Need to save some for Steve. He can’t go hungry.” Bucky says automatically as he’s steered into a chair.

“Perish the thought,” Monty jests, “Don’t worry, you’re not alone in holding the Captain’s best interests close to your heart. We all do.”

It’s as close as they will ever be to actually talking about Bucky and Steve. That’s fine with Bucky, as what is spoken makes his throat tight with emotion. He can only nod and smile at Monty as Frenchie puts something he thinks is food in front of him. The coffee that joins it is black, so he’ll at least get something into his system.

As he eats (it’s actually pretty good), the other guys come in a couple at a time, so someone is always on watch, and take turns congratulating and teasing Bucky for making up with Steve. Though they don’t say anything directly, it’s clear that Monty isn’t the only one who knows. Maybe Steve was too loud, or maybe they’ve always known. It doesn’t matter anymore. They make it clear they don’t care. Oh, Bucky’s sure they don’t want to know any more than they do, and he and Steve can’t parade around together in the light of day, but he thinks if a ring shows up on Steve’s finger, the Howlies will be happy for them.

“Hey Frenchie,” Bucky calls after they recover the drop and head back to the farmhouse. “Any ideas on how I can get my hands on a ring?”

There’s a small uproar as the guys slap Bucky on the back, pull him into quick hugs, and tease him mercilessly. There’s no jokes about a lucky lady, though, and Bucky knows he was right. This is why they’re Steve’s guys, the guys that will wade through hell for Captain America and Bucky. They not be doing it for the same reasons, but that doesn’t matter. What does is that they’re brothers, and he believes they’ll make it through this together.


	2. Interlude: The Winter Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadness warning

They broke him. Seven years, that’s how long it took, but in the end, everyone breaks. It was the chair in the end that did it. It took everything, piece by piece, until he was afraid to remember. Remembering meant pain. It meant being put back into the chair for a wipe. 

Even when he remembered nothing, he hated the chair. 

The memories of Steve were what he held onto the longest. When there was no Bucky, he still remembered that there had been a Steve. The first few years, he could still remember his voice. He could remember his laugh and his smile. 

The Winter Soldier remembered that someone had loved him.

Time and the chair took even those memories. Took them all until he was left with only the feeling of hands on his hips. Strong fingers that must have left bruises there, holding him in place; not forcefully, but desperately. There was fear in those hands, in that grip. But not a fear that the Soldier understood. It wasn't fear of pain or death, it was the fear of loss.

Someone was afraid of losing him. 

That thought sustains him, grants clarity when he most needs it. Allows him to spare the life of a little girl with brilliant red hair, a scientist with wire rimmed spectacles, a blond man with brilliant blue eyes. Small rebellions against his handlers, against Hydra, because he was loved and he was taken from someone by them. 

The Soldier hates them for that.

When he forgets the feeling of those hands, when he can’t remember exactly how hard they had dug into his hips, the Winter Soldier kills a technician. They wipe him for it, wipe him and start over so he can’t remember being angry. Can’t remember there was anything to be forgotten. Can’t remember that he was loved.

Then he sees the man on the bridge.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr ](http://cleo4u.tumblr.com/)


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